I looked up, as did the crowd. A woman stood upon a point of the great rock, a red robe hanging on her, her hair free over her shoulders, her finger pointing at the Intendant. Bigot only glanced up, then smoothed out the paper. He said to the people in a clear but less steady voice, for I could see that the woman had disturbed him, “Go pray to be forgiven for your insolence and folly. His most Christian Majesty is triumphant upon the Ohio. The English have been killed in thousands, and their General with them. Do you not hear the joy-bells in the Church of Our Lady of the Victories? and more--listen!” There burst from the Heights on the other side a cannon shot, and then another and another. There was a great commotion, and many ran to Bigot’s carriage, reached in to touch his hand, and called down blessings on him. “See that you save the other granaries,” he urged, adding, with a sneer, “and forget not to bless La Friponne in your prayers!” It was a clever piece of acting. Presently from the Heights above came the woman’s voice again, so piercing that the crowd turned to her. “Francois Bigot is a liar and a traitor!” she cried. “Beware of Francois Bigot! God has cast him out.” A dark look came upon Bigot’s face; but presently he turned, and gave a sign to some one near the palace. The doors of the courtyard flew open, and out came squad after squad of soldiers. In a moment, they, with the people, were busy carrying water to pour upon the side of the endangered warehouse. Fortunately the wind was with them, else it and the palace also would have been burned that night. The Intendant still stood in his carriage watching and listening to the cheers of the people. At last he beckoned to Doltaire and to me. We both went over. “Doltaire, we looked for you at dinner,” he said. “Was Captain Moray”--nodding towards me--“lost among the petticoats? He knows the trick of cup and saucer. Between the sip and click he sucked in secrets from our garrison--a spy where had been a soldier, as we thought. You once wore a sword, Captain Moray--eh?” “If the Governor would grant me leave, I would not only wear, but use one, your excellency knows well where,” said I. “Large speaking, Captain Moray. They do that in Virginia, I am told.” “In Gascony there’s quiet, your excellency.” Doltaire laughed outright, for it was said that Bigot, in his coltish days, had a shrewish Gascon wife, whom he took leave to send to heaven before her time. I saw the Intendant’s mouth twitch angrily. “Come,” he said, “you have a tongue; we’ll see if you have a stomach. You’ve languished with the girls; you shall have your chance to drink with Francois Bigot. Now, if you dare, when we have drunk to the first cockcrow, should you be still on your feet, you’ll fight some one among us, first giving ample cause.”